


Bands of Gold

by wheel_pen



Series: Loose Gems [15]
Category: Original Work, Troy (2004)
Genre: F/M, Slavery, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3909613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A warrior refuses to fight, but might be persuaded by a slave girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bands of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things.   
> Inherent in slavery and other forms of subjugation are dubious consent, unhealthy relationships, and violence.  
> I hope you enjoy this original work, which was inspired by many different stories.
> 
> For visual reference, Akando is played by Brad Pitt.

Carolus tentatively poked his orange-red head into the tent and cleared his throat. The blond man lounging on the heap of blankets that passed for a bed didn't look up from the scroll he was frowning at. "Um..." Carolus began nervously. "I've just been summoned to the General's tent." When this failed to get a reaction he added, "I suppose they're going to yell at me some more. I don't suppose I could tell them you've changed your mind?" he asked hopefully. The well-muscled warrior glanced up at him with piercing blue eyes that clearly said, don't bet on it. Carolus sighed. "I thought not. Well, I'm going then." The blue eyes dropped back to the scroll dismissively, and the scraggly cleric pulled back and let the tent flap drop shut behind him.

On his quick-shuffle walk across the muddy lanes of the camp Carolus practiced his answers to the demanding questions he was certain to be asked by irate military commanders. Unfortunately they hadn't changed since yesterday. When everything went as it was supposed to, Carolus knew exactly what his job entailed--he made sure Akando got from place to place, that he had all his armor and weapons, that he ate well and had his injuries tended to. But when something went _wrong_ \--when Akando misbehaved, as he was insistent upon doing now--Carolus suddenly didn't know whether he was supposed to be Akando's responsible, disciplinarian master, or his powerless servant. Neither role particularly appealed to him.

Sooner than he had hoped he found himself at the entrance to the General's tent, hardly grander than any belonging to his higher-ranked soldiers--except for the stone-faced guards standing outside it, who pulled back the heavy fabric so that Carolus could slip in. The space was crowded with the top advisors, the military commanders, the leaders of the allied factions, and of course the General himself, sitting casually behind a table pouring over his maps and discussing strategic points of attack. Unfortunately, Carolus's presence did not go unnoticed for long, and he ordered himself not to shrink under the sudden gaze of all those fierce, furious eyes.

"Well, cleric?" the General asked simply. Carolus shook his head, and the others in the room began to react with frustration, anger, and impatience.

"If we do not launch an attack within the next two days," one of the commanders pointed out sharply, "the Varazans will have strengthened their defenses tenfold, and we will be in for a long and bloody siege."

"A quick and easy victory is the dream of every soldier," another one agreed, "but we've waged long and bloody sieges before."

"Well _this_ time we'll be doing it without supplies," a third man told him. "In another month the sea will be too rough for the ships from home to reach us. If we run out of food, _all_ the men will refuse to fight."

"Then we will have to find a way to change his mind within the next two days," the General said decisively. There was a pause, and everyone's eyes turned back to Carolus, whose mind suddenly went blank.

Fortunately a gruff voice drew the attention off the cleric. "I don't understand what the problem is." It was one of the allied leaders, a grizzled warlord from the far north. "If a soldier won't fight, you take the whip to him." Snorts of derision rose up from some of the local leaders at the northman's suggestion, but he continued, "And if he _still_ won't fight, what does it matter? You have thousands of others. He is only one."

"Lord Gijs," the General began, silencing the second round of protests, "Akando _is_ only one man. But he is the most important. It's no exaggeration to say that I would give up any one of _you_ in this room--and all the men you command--to keep him." A few nervous glances were tossed about as people hoped the General wouldn't carry out this suggestion. "The other men call Akando the greatest warrior on earth. I don't know if that's true, but he's certainly the greatest that I've ever seen. And beyond that, he's a symbol--when the other men see him plunging towards the enemy, they follow, farther than they would follow any one of us. And when the enemy sees him coming...well, you saw what happened the other day." The northern warlord shrugged noncommittally.

"My point is," the General continued in his even tone, "that fighting this war without Akando will turn what should have been a quick and easy victory"--here he looked pointedly at some of his commanders whose troops had not performed as well as he had wanted during the initial skirmishes--"into an unending nightmare of death and dishonor."

"'The gates of the city will collapse upon you to unveil the plague of the living, and you shall lie in the sand, gnawing the bones of dogs...'" One of the commanders paused, slightly embarrassed to have been caught reciting the ancient prophecy that allegedly loomed over Akando.

"Yes, well, I'm sure our good cleric does not place any faith in the words of heathen seers, do you?" the General broke in rhetorically, turning back to Carolus. "You are the person who knows Akando best. Tell us what you think will persuade him to pick up his sword again."

Carolus opened his mouth, although he was certain nothing was going to come out. "A new set of armor," someone else suggested in his place.

"Well, he's very fond of what he has now," Carolus countered delicately. "I don't think he would really want to switch."

"A share of the spoils from the victory," called out another voice.

"He gets that already," someone pointed out.

"Promise him his freedom," the northern warlord said.

The General gave him a severe look. "Win the battle, but lose the war? Only as a last resort." He sighed. "Surely there must be _something_ to tempt him. Some girl, perhaps? Or a boy?"

"He-he never looks at anything but his sword," Carolus replied despondently. "Well, except..."

The talking ceased suddenly as the General fixed his eyes upon the cleric. "Except?"

"Well," Carolus continued uncertainly, dragging up a memory of a minor incident from a few weeks earlier, "he did ask me once about the slave girl who belongs to Lord Andronicus. He saw her when we first arrived, I think."

The General quirked an eyebrow at this news and turned to one of his pages. "Find Lord Andronicus," he ordered, and the youth hurried off.

"It couldn't possibly be that easy," one of the commanders commented pessimistically. "If all he wanted was a girl, why didn't he just ask for one?"

"Well, um, he does get a bit, well, moody sometimes," Carolus interjected timidly. "Um, like last year, at Tripoli..."

The General and several of the commanders who had been with him at the time rolled their eyes. "What happened at Tripoli?" the northern warlord asked.

"He set his tent on fire," the General replied dryly. "The entire camp would have burned to the ground if the wind hadn't changed."

"But then he got that new horse," Carolus persisted, "and he was so much happier after that. Well, happy for him," he added quickly.

"You call that ancient monstrosity a horse?" scoffed one of the commanders.

"The horse was a gift from the King of the Saracians," Carolus assured him.

"Some gift," someone snorted. "It's too old to even ride into battle! If some useless piece of junk is all it takes to win Akando's sword--"

The cleric's tone became surprisingly firm. "The King didn't have much, after Saracia was sacked," he pointed out, "but what he did have, he gave to Akando. It was a sign of his respect."

"A slave who demands respect," an allied leader began snidely, "is a slave in need of a good flogging. Or several."

"If you would like to volunteer for that job, Lord Ugo," the General told him smoothly, "I grant you permission. But you will have to tie Akando to the post and wield the whip yourself, because no soldier in this army will assist you." The idea of dragging the fabled warrior out of his tent and to the whipping grounds on his own was enough to quiet the arrogant ruler.

The tent flap suddenly opened and Lord Andronicus burst in, his best robes hastily arranged. He practically shoved Carolus out of the way to bow before the General. "My lord!" he greeted fervently. "What an honor it is to be invited into your presence"--he glanced around at the assembled figures--"into your very war council! I only hope that I, with my expertise in the merchant world, may assist your victory in some small way--"

The General waved him silent. "You might indeed be able to assist our victory," he allowed, not missing the greedy, obsequious gleam in the merchant's eye. "Do you keep a slave girl?"

"Er, well, yes," Lord Andronicus replied, obviously confused by the question.

"Young, beautiful, all that?"

"Uh, well, of course..." The merchant was beginning to think he wouldn't like this plan, whatever it was.

"Good," the General told him. "You will send her to the tent of Akando immediately. Carolus will show her the way."

Several different protests and questions rose immediately to Lord Andronicus's mind, but he let only the mildest slip out. "I don't quite understand, my lord."

"It's very simple," the General snapped, growing impatient with the discussion. "Carolus, the cleric"--Carolus bowed a little bit under Andronicus's glare--"will take your slave girl to the tent of Akando, where she will remain until tomorrow morning. I wouldn't object if I were you."

"Of course not, my lord," Andronicus agreed, still completely ignorant of the motives behind this order. "It will be done right away."

"Good," the General said. There was a pause, during which Andronicus hoped for some further information. "Get to it, then."

"Yes, my lord, certainly, my lord..." Andronicus saw that the General had turned back to his maps, effectively dismissing him, and he backed out of the tent, a respectful expression still on his face.

As soon as he exited the tent, however, he turned on the cleric following him with a snarl. " _What_ is this all about?" he demanded as he stalked back towards his own tent.

Carolus trotted to keep up. "The-the General wants to attack the city within the next two days," he replied nervously.

"So?!"

"And he needs Akando to fight, but Akando won't fight, but maybe Akando will fight after he, ah..." Carolus was uncertain how to put the matter delicately. "After he socializes with your slave girl."

" _Socializes_?!" Andronicus nearly roared, drawing startled looks from the soldiers around him. "There are a hundred slave girls in this camp, hundreds more willing women following us from country to country--why should it be _my_ girl, dirtying herself at the hands of that beast?"

"Akando isn't dirty," Carolus protested. "He's very clean. And," he added, suddenly inspired, "if a night with her is presented as a gift, a sign of respect from the General, perhaps Akando will be willing to fight in the morning. And then perhaps we will win a glorious victory in the war."


End file.
